


Fine Art

by roe87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Art Galleries, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottoming from the Top, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romantic Fluff, Russian Bucky Barnes, Shameless Smut, Shy Steve Rogers, Smut, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: At Steve's newly opened art exhibition, he spots a handsome and mysterious stranger lingering at one of the paintings.The handsome stranger ends up taking the painting home with him, but will that be all he leaves with?





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Heads up for briefly mentioned ex's (Bucky/Pierce). It's only a mention of an ex, no drama.
> 
> ~ ~ ~

Steve had done art showings before. He wasn't nervous.

It was just...

Okay, maybe he was a little nervous.

The gallery, while small scale, was very hip and well known. People wandered through the doors, dressed in what seemed like old cardigans and scuffed shoes, but they'd buy up a painting in the blink of an eye. Like thousands of dollars for one of Steve's paintings wasn't breaking their bank.

Steve had learned not to judge people by their clothes.

Not that Steve interacted all that much; Natasha had told him to hang back and only talk to the people she introduced him too.

But Natasha was busy speaking to socialite Pepper Potts this evening, opening evening, in fact, and Steve had spotted a rather handsome man over by one of the paintings.

Steve picked up his flute of champagne, adjusted his tie a little, and made his way over.

There were enough guests around that meant he could duck away from Natasha's line of sight, and casually as he could manage, approach the brunet gentleman in the tight jeans and leather jacket.

His long hair was tied back in a knot, wisps escaping like he'd been out in the wind before, with a small section at the back of his neck shaved close to his skin in an undercut.

He could be another hipster with too much money, but the way he'd been staring at this one painting had caught Steve's eye.

That, and he was remarkably attractive. Steve already wanted to sketch out the man's face, his strong jawline and perfectly straight nose.

Steve shuffled a little closer, facing his painting, and tried to come up with something witty to say.

"Uh... you like it?" he stuttered out.

_Great job, Steve._

The brunet didn't look away from the painting, but he nodded minutely.

Steve glanced at him, taking in more of the man's features. He was gorgeous. Stunning, even. But the sad way he stared at the painting was hard to miss, and made Steve feel embarrassed for disturbing him.

Steve turned back to the painting. _Longing_. He had painted this one when he'd felt particularly lonely and fed up; a feeling that clung to the canvas and its expressionist swipes of black and dark blue oils. It was a little like looking at a faraway galaxy; dark, with a few specks of light hinting at something further away.

Steve had joked to Natasha about naming it staring into the abyss, but he'd swiftly quashed that idea with the look she'd given him.

The problem with sharing his art and not being able to cover up his emotions with a little dry humor meant Steve was still clueless about how to talk with anyone about his work.

Maybe approaching people at his showings wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made. _Hey, I couldn't help notice you're staring into my soul on canvas, and you seem awful lonely too. Fancy getting dinner?_

Steve tried not to wince, but he figured he'd slink away while his dignity was still mostly intact.

This guy didn't know he was the artist.

Just as Steve was turning to go, the brunet asked, "Has it sold yet?"

He had a slight accent, something Steve couldn't place. When he paused and looked to the brunet, he found icy blue eyes looking back at him, hope plain to see.

Steve almost forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"Uh... I-I don't know." He made himself look at the painting, at the small paper plaque under it. "There isn't a yellow sticker there yet. It should be available."

"Good," the brunet said, as he looked across the room to where Natasha stood with Pepper Potts. "Natalia is busy. May I put my name down for this painting?"

"Um, sure." Steve swallowed. "I can do that. What's your name?"

"James," he said, looking at Steve once more.

"James. Okay." Steve smiled at him. "And your last name? Just in case there's more than one James?"

James raised one dark brow, and rattled off possibly the longest and most tongue breaking name Steve had ever heard in his life.

Russian, maybe?

Steve had no idea how he would decipher that. He couldn't even remember the first part of his name. Barnov...? Something?

He must've looked lost, as James suddenly cracked a smile.

"Shall I write it down for you?" he offered.

Steve nodded eagerly. "Yes! Yes please."

 

 

Steve led James over to the back desk, where the reservation book was. He'd have to yellow sticker the painting in question too, but he wanted to have James all to himself first.

The brunet leaned down to write his very long name into the ledger, and his contact details.

"That's quite a name you got there," Steve commented, feeling nervous and suddenly wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

"A struggle for Americans." James straightened up and pulled out his wallet. "I'll end up choosing an American name."

"Um, yeah? Are you moving here soon?" Steve asked. He took the Visa credit card James held out for him, and couldn't help checking the name.

_James Pierce._

Steve glanced up, confused.

James shifted awkwardly, and fished another card from his wallet, offering it to Steve.

It was a driver's license, with James's picture clear to see (looking good even in a mug shot, Steve noted.) The name said James Pierce.

"I need to... change all my cards," James said. "When the divorce papers are done."

Steve looked up, surprised. "Oh," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

James waved a hand. He looked away, biting his lip, so Steve went ahead with the card payment.

"Your, um, your other name is nice," he said. “You going to use that name now?” He handed James his card and receipt, and caught James smiling briefly.

"It will not fit on the cards."

"Oh... Well, that's a shame." Steve drummed his fingers on the ledger, glancing down at James's long, long last name. "You could just use the first part? I've known people do that. Lots of famous people do too. They want their names easier for the public to remember, I guess. Jennifer Anistonata, and John Bongiovi... and...um. Lots of others."

Steve had gone blank.

A small huff of a laugh indicated James was amused, at least.

When Steve was brave enough to make eye contact again, he saw James smiling at him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

A buzz in his pocket had him reaching for his phone, frowning at the screen. "I must go, but I look forward to receiving the painting."

"Yes, of course. No problem," Steve told him. "We'll call you when it's ready to ship."

James nodded. "Please pass on my compliments to the artist," he said, then he took his call and swiftly turned away.

Steve was left watching him leave, itching to know more about him.

 

~ ~ ~

 

"So... your friend James bought a painting," Steve mentioned the next day, while Natasha organised what had sold and what was still available over lunch.

She didn't look up from her iPad, but she did pause momentarily. "Yes, I saw."

Steve waited, but she didn't offer any more. He shifted in his chair, tapping his pencil against his sketchbook.

There were probably other ways to find out about James than trying to grill Natasha, but Steve was an artist, not a detective.

"He seemed nice?"

"Hm," Natasha hummed non-committally.

Steve began to feel frustrated, and blurted out, "Shame he's getting divorced."

Natasha looked up, fixing Steve with a blank look. "He told you that?"

"Uh. Yeah." Steve hoped he hadn't overstepped. It was hard to tell with Natasha, yet she always asked about his personal life.

She gave him an indecipherable look, and Steve was on the verge of apologising when she simply shrugged a shoulder and looked back to her iPad.

"That husband was an asshole anyway," she said lowly. "And far too old for him. Hopefully James will find someone better suited."

"Oh," Steve said, unsure what else to offer. "That... sucks."

He knew about asshole ex-boyfriends, he'd had one or two himself, but he'd never been married. No one had wanted to take a chance on a struggling artist, and now Steve had caught a break thanks to Natasha and her contacts, he felt too shy to even try dating someone seriously.

"You know him from Russia?" Steve pressed, half expecting Nat to flat out ignore him.

A small smile played on her lips. "No. Actually, we met in New York. His soon to be ex-husband worked with a friend of mine."

"Oh? So, James lives here?"

She turned to smile at Steve. "If you're so interested, why not ask him yourself?"

Steve clamped his mouth shut, and pretended to get on with his sketching. "Just curious. Besides," he added, "he's just got divorced, Nat."

"As a matter of fact," she closed her ledger with a resounding thunk, "they've been separated for about a year. The divorce is just a formality at this point."

Steve didn't know what to say to that, but hope flared in his chest.

"Seeing as he ordered a painting,” Natasha went on, “and he listed his address as Red Hook, why don't you deliver it to him when the show is done?"

"Huh?" Steve spluttered, accidentally snapping his lead nib on the page. "I can't go bug him at home!"

"You won't be bugging him, you'll be delivering his painting." She rolled her eyes when Steve continued to stare at her. "Think it over. You're both as hopeless as each other, so you'd make a good match."

Steve opened his mouth to retort, and ended up thinking about him and James together as a match. "Huh," he said. "Well, we'll see."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Steve hadn't intended to play delivery boy, really he hadn't. But after nearly two weeks of thinking about James, and James's perfect jawline and his ice blue eyes, Steve conceded that he was indeed far too interested to turn down the opportunity to see him again.

Especially as Natasha wouldn't give Steve any more details. Not even James's phone number.

All Steve had was the address, and he took the four foot canvas down there, wrapped in bubble wrap and cardboard, in an Uber.

It wasn't that far from the gallery, where he'd been busy packing up and shipping his art the past two days. That's why he was only dressed in casual clothes, covered in stray bits of sticky tape on his pants.

It was either do this now, while he had the nerve, or not at all.

Natasha had confirmed that James would be at home this afternoon, so all Steve had to do was give him the painting. Steve carefully carried the canvas up the steps to a brownstone. He looked for the top apartment, as had been instructed, which was only listed under its number and no name.

He pressed the buzzer, and waited.

When the intercom clicked on, Steve jerked to attention.

"Hello?" said the familiar, accented voice.

"Hi," Steve said into the com, "got a painting here for you."

"Come up." The door buzzed, and Steve manoeuvred his way in. At least the canvas wasn't too huge.

There was an elevator, which definitely made life easier. Steve rode up on his own, with the painting.

When he got out onto the floor, the apartment he wanted was to the right. He knocked on the door, and as it opened he prepared a friendly smile, which promptly fell off his face when he saw James standing there.

In tight black yoga pants and a tank, his dark hair loose around his face.

James seemed mildly surprised to see Steve, too.

"Oh," he said, eyes unmistakably raking over Steve's upper body. "Uh... Hello."

Steve finally managed to smile. "Hey. How are you?"

James blinked at him, then opened the door wide, beckoning Steve in. "Me? I am now divorced!" He shut the door after Steve, gestured at his apartment. "This is my new place."

"It's very nice," Steve said, looking around. Clearly James had just moved in; boxes littered the place, and besides a leather couch and a TV set up, there wasn't much else around.

"Yes, it's nice," James said with a shrug. "I need to decorate."

"Hence the painting?" Steve flashed him a smile.

James looked back at him, offered a tentative smile in return. "Yes."

They held eye contact for a long moment, enough for Steve to feel shy.

"Where, um, where did you want the painting?"

The edges of James's lips turned up in a smirk. "In the bedroom."

Steve swallowed. "Right." He hefted the canvas again, and followed after James.

 

 

 


	2. Passion

The bedroom was mostly empty, save for a huge double bed, and one set of drawers. Boxes stood in one corner, with some clothes thrown over the top.

Steve tried his best not to stare at James's bed. Beds were personal, beds sent all sorts of thoughts racing through Steve's mind, of James sleeping there and... doing things in there.

Steve set the canvas down, looked to James. "Do you want to unwrap it here? Check it over?"

"Of course."

James helped unpack the painting, getting in close enough for Steve to smell the light musk of him, and he smelled really, really good.

Steve had to concentrate on what he was doing, but he couldn't help steal glances at James. He clearly worked out, his body was toned with muscle, and he looked in great physical shape.

Steve tried not to stare at James, he looked down at the floor instead, as they unwrapped the canvas like a large gift.

The yoga pants James wore cut off below his knees, and his feet were bare.

It was kind of intimate, seeing someone in their home, in their casual clothes. The kind of thing that made Steve yearn to talk to James, learn more about him.

When the painting was unwrapped, Steve leaned it carefully against the wall, then he scooped up the wrapping and cardboard to be tidy.

James was looking at the art, and crossed his arms in thought.

Steve balled the wrapping up with a tie, and set it on the floor for a moment. "Do you need any help hanging it?"

James looked at him, mild surprise on his face. "I... Yes? If it's not too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all. It's pretty light, all it really needs is a couple nails to hold it up."

James huffed a small laugh. "I have some things. Let me find them."

After locating a hammer, and some proper picture hooks, Steve did the holding of the canvas while James stood back to see where he wanted it. He'd chosen the wall facing the bed, so he'd see it when he woke up each morning.

Place set, Steve marked with a pencil then quickly hammered in the hooks. Hanging the canvas was easy, and he stood back a little to admire it when finished.

"Looks good!" he declared, feeling oddly exuberant about his art hanging in the bedroom of such a gorgeous man.

"Yes," James said, behind him. "It does."

Steve turned to look at him, and their eyes met, and held.

Tension thrummed between them, or so Steve thought. It couldn't all be wishful thinking on his part, could it?

Shy, he looked away. "You chose a great painting, James."

"Oh," James said, clearing his throat a little. "I changed my name."

"Huh? You did?"

"Yes. Well, James is still there. But I am trying out a nickname. It is very American." He grinned wide, blue eyes sparkling.

"Oh...?" Steve couldn't help smile back. "What'd you go for?"

"James Bucky Barnes," he said, puffing his chest out proudly. "You may call me Bucky."

"Bucky? It's cute."

James's -- _Bucky's_ eyebrows raised in answer. "You think so?"

Steve felt his face grow hot, but he shrugged it off. "Sure. Suits you."

Bucky stared at him, and the tension between them was back tenfold.

Steve wondered, maybe he had a chance after all.

Bucky moved away, padding across the soft carpet in bare feet. "Are you thirsty...? Sorry, I don't think you told me your name?"

"Steve. And nah, I'm good."

"Sure?" Bucky lingered by his bed a moment, then sat on the edge.

"Yeah. Thank you." Steve's throat was a little dry, but he was enjoying the view of Bucky on his bed far too much to think of anything else.

Bucky leaned back on his hands, smiled up at Steve. "It is quite the novelty being single in America," he said, voice low and inviting. "I am learning all these new things, all the apps for your phone. Tell me, Steve," he smiled wolfishly, "do you know of Grindr?"

Heart fluttering with excitement, Steve edged a little closer. "Yes, I know it."

"You do?" Bucky asked, mock innocent. "Perhaps you would show me how it works?"

Steve paused a moment, unsure if he actually meant the app, or...

Bucky moved in answer, spreading his knees apart as he looked up at Steve.

Oh, Steve thought, and stepped close.

"It's, um. It's a hook up app," he said, pretty sure that Bucky already knew this.

"Oh?" He said, eyebrow lifting in challenge. "Two consenting adults meet for sex?"

Steve swallowed. "Yeah. Or um, sometimes more than two."

Bucky laughed at that, and he looked beautiful.

"I'm only interested in one right now," he said, hand coming up to touch Steve's arm as soon as he got close.

"Yeah?" Steve kneeled carefully on the bed.

"Oh, yes."

Bucky pulled Steve down, met his mouth in a kiss. Steve kissed him back, thrilled and eager. Bucky kissed almost tentatively at first, then matched Steve's vigour and they made out messily with lots of tongue.

Steve moved onto the bed, Bucky pulling him down. Their bodies pressed together, and Steve felt how hard he was, grinding up against him. Steve rocked into him as they kissed, thrusting his erection into Bucky's, and biting on Bucky's bottom lip.

Bucky let out a groan, and started tugging at Steve's t-shirt. "Off," he grunted, between kisses.

Steve grinned, and raised up quickly to pull away his top.

Bucky did the same, whipping the tank up and over his head, mussing up his hair. Then he reached for Steve, pulled him back on top of him, legs bracketing his waist.

"You're a... a good kisser," Steve told him, still kissing him.

Bucky hummed in reply, tongue diving back into Steve's mouth. His hands trailed up Steve's arms, over his shoulders and onto his chest.

Steve shivered, thrumming with arousal. "You top or bottom?" he asked breathlessly, and pulled up enough that he could start to undo his belt.

Beneath him, Bucky panted through open lips, pink and wet from kissing. "Mmm. Bottom." His hands were outstretched, still feeling Steve's chest, fingers brushing his nipples. "Let me ride you?"

"Okay, gorgeous," Steve agreed, moving his hands to Bucky's hips. "Want some prep first?"

Bucky nodded. "Yes, please." He went to push his pants off, and Steve helped him peel them away. His erect cock bounced free, hard and leaking pre-come.

Steve licked his lips. "You got any... lube and stuff?"

"Oh. The drawer."

Steve stood, shucked off his jeans and underwear, palming his hard cock as he watched Bucky retrieve what they needed from the drawer. They got back in the bed, kicked the covers away and pressed close together, naked skin against skin. Steve rolled on top of Bucky and kissed him, carefully thrusting his hips so their cocks slid together, hard and so sensitive. Bucky was making these incredible sounds, and Steve wanted more.

With one last kiss, he broke apart and kissed his way down Bucky's body, his skin a little tan and beautifully toned with muscle. Steve followed the dark trail of hair down Bucky's abdomen with his tongue, down to the soft skin of his groin, then he wrapped a hand around Bucky's shaft, holding his cock steady. Bucky trembled and moaned under him, as Steve lowered his mouth and slowly swirled his tongue around the head of Bucky's cock.

He bucked into Steve's fist, gasping and murmuring in Russian. He looked absolutely stunning. "You like that?" Steve teased, flicking his tongue out again. He lapped at the slit as his fist pumped once on the shaft, a big bead of pre-come glistening. "I'm just getting started."

Steve closed his mouth over the head of Bucky's cock, and set about giving the best blow-job of his life. Steve sucked, he teased, he deep throated. He sucked on Bucky's tight balls one by one, rolled them in his mouth, and then he sucked on his cock some more.

Bucky writhed under him, moaning, panting, on the verge of orgasm. He was so close, and Steve kept him right on the edge for as long as he could.

Steve may not have been confident in his dating skills, but he was confident about giving oral.

Bucky was a squirming, sobbing mess, skin sheened in a light sweat, and Steve hadn't even touched his ass yet.

"Okay?" Steve checked in, reaching for the lube.

Bucky nodded, breathless and panting against the sheets. "Very okay," he gasped. "Your mouth... your mouth is amazing."

Steve smiled, his face growing hot with the praise. "Wait till you get the rest of me." He squeezed lube out on his fingers.

Bucky opened his legs in invitation, and Steve pressed his fingers right up against Bucky's hole, getting him all wet with lube. He circled his index finger around the rim, pushing in a little deeper each time. Bucky groaned, pushing down eagerly.

"Please," he panted, "Please..."

Steve could feel how desperate he was. He pushed one finger in, sliding easily. Bucky arched into it, pressing his hips down to take it all. His head turned on the pillows he laid on, dark hair getting messy.

He looked incredible. Steve couldn't believe his luck right now, to be knuckle deep in such a hot guy.

Bucky rocked his hips down, and Steve took the hint, giving him another finger. He speared Bucky with two, stretching him open. He purposely avoided looking for Bucky's prostate, and just took his time stretching his hole.

Bucky was making little huffs and moans, but the desperate edge had ebbed away, for now. His leg was draped close to Steve's hip, touching skin, with his other leg bent at the knee to give Steve access to his ass. Bucky's hands curled in the sheets, and honestly Steve could've done this for hours, just pleasuring Bucky and watching him enjoy it.

Bucky was the one who moved things along. He pushed Steve's hand away with a grin, and shifted onto his side. "Let me take a ride on this?" he asked softly, hands reaching for Steve's cock, aching and hard.

Steve grunted at the contact, closed his eyes. He probably would've let Bucky jerk him off right there, it felt so good. Bucky sure knew how to handle a cock.

But Bucky released him, patted Steve on the hip to get him to move. "Lay back for me? On the pillows."

Steve did as he was told. As he arranged himself, Bucky tore open a condom and straddled Steve's legs. He gently sheathed Steve's cock with latex, then applied a liberal amount of lube over it. Steve only had to sit back and watch as Bucky shifted closer, his gorgeous body straddling Steve as he grabbed the headboard with one hand for balance, looking down at him. "A little help?" Bucky raised his ass up, and Steve grabbed for his cock to hold it up, point it straight like a pole for Bucky to sink down onto.

Bucky lowered his hips, and Steve felt his cockhead push between his plump cheeks, push against his hole. Bucky spread his knees, and sank lower.

Steve looked up, watched Bucky's face as he took the blunt head of Steve's cock into his ass. Steve knew he was big, and he moved a hand onto Bucky's hip.

"Hey," he breathed, "You okay?"

Bucky groaned loudly, and moved both hands onto Steve's shoulders. His thighs shifted, spreading out, and he sank lower on Steve's cock, enveloping him in tight, tight bliss. Steve grunted with pleasure. Bucky felt amazing, and he seemed to be taking it so well.

"Just go slow," Steve gritted out, willing himself to remain still.

Steve would let Bucky set the pace. He removed the hand holding his cock as Bucky sank down, and Steve held onto his hips as Bucky's ass cheeks sat flush on Steve's groin.

He was breathing heavy, they both were. Bucky's fingers dug into Steve's shoulders as he panted, long hair hanging around his face.

Steve moved his hands up and down Bucky's thighs, his shapely muscular thighs. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured.

Bucky huffed lightly, a smile on his lips. "You're just saying that because I'm sitting on your dick."

"No, I ain't," he insisted, smiling back. "Thought you were gorgeous when I first saw you."

"Mmm." Bucky shifted a little, circling his hips. "Did you want your dick inside me then?"

Steve nodded, breathless. "Sure did." He closed his eyes and held tight to Bucky's hips. "God, you feel good."

Bucky hmmed in reply, still circling his hips. "You're a big boy. You gonna split me open with this giant cock?"

"Oh, fuck," Steve could only whisper. He forced himself to stay still, let Bucky be in charge. He was so turned on he thought he could blow any minute.

Bucky ceased the movements, and gripped harder to Steve's shoulders, leaning in close. Their bare chests brushed, nipples grazing skin, as Bucky pressed his lips to Steve's.

Steve kissed him back, his grip tightening on Bucky's legs. He couldn't help his hips jerking, his cock trying to get deeper inside Bucky's ass. Bucky moaned into his mouth, then broke away to lean back.

"Just relax," he murmured. "I'll take care of you." His hands splayed over Steve's shoulders, bracing. Steve watched, and Bucky clenched his ass down tight, raising up by strength of his thigh muscles alone. Steve gasped, let out a groan as Bucky unclenched and sank back down.

"Good?" he asked, clenching again and pulling up on Steve's shaft.

Steve swallowed a whimper. "Yeah," he managed. "Fuck, that's good."

Bucky smiled at him, and continued his slow assault on Steve's cock, sinking low to impale himself on Steve's length, and pulling up tightly clenched. His breathing was deep but steady, and Steve could only hold onto this amazing man as he kept going through the sheer power of his thighs.

"Oh, God," Steve murmured, brain foggy with lust. "Marry me."

Bucky shook with laughter against him, his rhythm breaking. "I'm that good?"

"So good," Steve groaned.

"Want me to go a little faster?"

"Y-yeah."

Bucky moved, planting his hands behind him on the bed. He angled his hips, knees up, and started bouncing himself up and down, fucking his ass on Steve's cock, his own hard-on bouncing with the movement.

"Oh... fuck," Steve gasped.

Bucky was incredible, and the pace grew faster, harder. He didn't falter.

Steve felt his orgasm start to creep in, his balls drawing in tight. But he wanted to be closer, and he surged up, arms wrapping around Bucky's waist, holding tight as he flipped them. Bucky let out a surprised noise as he landed flat on his back, Steve's cock still buried deep in his ass.

Steve covered him, kissed him, drove his cock in hard. He couldn't get enough of Bucky, wanted more. Bucky kissed him back, strong legs wrapping around Steve's body like a vice. Steve loved it. He thrust his hips slow. He wanted this to last as long as it could.

Bucky groaned, breaking the kiss. Steve kissed down the pale expanse of his throat, sucking on his skin. Bucky was murmuring something in Russian.

"What did you say?" Steve asked, biting at Bucky's neck.

"You fuck like a dream," Bucky answered, voice cracked and breathless.

Steve increased his thrusts, so wildly turned on he knew he wouldn't last. "You close, baby?"

"Yes," Bucky groaned back.

"Touch yourself. Come for me."

Steve held himself up enough, gave Bucky space to get his hand down between them, and jerk himself off. Steve watched him, watched his eyelids flutter, and his lips part. Steve watched Bucky as he tensed up, ass clamping down tight, and he came, gasping and groaning through it.

"So pretty," Steve told him, increasing his thrusts. "Gonna come in you now."

Bucky's other hand pulled Steve down, and Bucky kissed him as his orgasm swept through him. Steve gasped into his mouth, wringing himself out as his cock shot his release deep in Bucky's ass.

As the pleasure subsided, Steve tried to catch his breath. Bucky was still holding him, kissing his lips.

"Holy shit," Steve breathed, hot and heavy.

With one last peck, Bucky let him up and they carefully pulled apart, settling side by side in the bed.

After a few moments of mutual panting, Bucky said, "You want that drink now?"

"Please."

"There's a clean towel on the side," Bucky told him, as he carefully went to get off the bed.

Steve watched him walk naked across the room, limping just a little.

Then he set about removing the condom, using the towel on the dresser to quickly clean up.

Bucky padded back into the room, carrying a large thermos. Steve was laying back down, too exhausted to move just yet. Bucky got in next to him, pulling the covers over their legs, and handed the thermos to Steve. It was simple ice water, and the best thing Steve had ever tasted.

Besides Bucky.

He drank half, and handed it back. "Thank you."

Bucky smiled, and drank the rest of the water in one go. He set the thermos aside and laid down in the bed. Steve had hoped he'd want to cuddle, and it looked like today was his lucky day.

With one arm around Bucky, stroking the ends of his long hair, their naked bodies pressed close, Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the blissful afterglow.

"Steve?"

"Mm?" he replied sleepily.

"How serious was that marriage offer? Just in case my green card gets revoked."

Steve laughed happily, arm closing around Bucky. "You fuck me like that on a regular basis, I'd marry you tomorrow."

Against him, Bucky shook with his own laughter.

"Good to know," he said, pressing a kiss to Steve's skin.

 

 

 


	3. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Epilogue)

_Three months later_

 

 

 

"I can't believe it took you this long to tell me!" Bucky said hotly, stirring the Bolognese sauce and refusing to look at Steve.

"I know, I'm a jerk." Steve had been in the dog house all day, after finally coming clean about being an artist.

Or rather, the artist of the painting in Bucky's bedroom.

The painting Bucky loved, not only because it was beautiful, he said, but because it was how they'd met.

Although now he was cursing under his breath in Russian, Steve felt a little nervous.

"Please, Bucky," he tried. "I didn't do it on purpose. You know how dumb I feel bragging about my work. I was just trying to find the right moment to tell you."

Bucky looked up, frowning mildly.

"I love you," Steve added weakly.

Bucky sighed, and turned the heat off his sauce.

Bucky made great sauce. He was cooking them dinner. A sort of anniversary thing, because they were both the sort to really enjoy monogamous dating, and had ended up as a couple almost instantly.

Bucky stepped up close, put his arms around Steve's neck. "I love you too, Steve," he said gently, lips pressing to Steve's. "But don't keep things from me."

"I won't, Buck. I promise."

"Good." Another peck, and Bucky went to move away.

Steve pulled him back. "Wait, I got something to show you."

"It can't wait until dinner is finished?"

"I wanna show you now."

Bucky made a face but he let Steve lead him by the hand.

To the brown paper package he'd left by the door.

"It's for you," Steve told him, gesturing at the canvas shaped gift.

Bucky smiled at him, and bent down to start unwrapping it.

Steve felt nervous as the paper peeled away. But when the painting was revealed, a contrast of dark blue and peachy orange, Bucky stared at it in admiration.

"Steve, this is beautiful."

"Uh. Great!"

"It... reminds me of my one," Bucky said, standing back to look at it. "They're not from the same series?"

"No," Steve said, "this is a new one. I only finished it last week." He sidled up close, nudged Bucky's shoulder with his. "Wanna know what it's called?"

Bucky smiled at him brightly. "What is it called?"

"It's called," Steve cleared his throat, dry with nerves. "It's called, _Proposal_."

The smile slid off Bucky's face, his eyes rounding with surprise. "What?"

"Um... well, I figured, I mean. I know it's still early days, for us. It's just... I really do love you, Buck. And I wanted you to know, if you ever wanna get hitched, for any reason, I'm putting my offer on the table." He gestured at the painting. "Officially. If you want it."

" _Bozhe_ _moi_ ," Bucky murmured. "Really?"

"Sure." Steve felt brave enough to smile, confident that Bucky loved him back.

If they weren't ready to get married, he would understand. Although they had talked about it, in case Bucky got sent back to Russia.

Steve would marry Bucky in a heartbeat, he loved him.

Bucky moved toward him, held his arms out. Steve welcomed the embrace, let Bucky hang on for as long as he needed.

"You'd marry me?" he asked quietly, muffled in Steve's neck.

"I think, the real question here is, are you sure you'd marry _me?_ "

Bucky laughed, and clung tighter to Steve. "Natalia was right. We are both hopeless." He pulled back to look at Steve. "Of course I want to marry you." He kissed Steve on the lips, kissed away any doubt Steve may have had.

Then they stood holding onto each other, and Steve had never felt so happy.

"Hey, just a thought,” Steve said. “Can we please make sure Clint or Tony don't get to do any speeches at our future wedding? If they ever find out that we got together with me delivering you a package, we'll never hear the end of it."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> And [here is a rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/170717876375/fine-art).


End file.
